My Daughter's Eyes
by RoseofSharon7
Summary: In my daughter's eyes, I am a hero.  I am strong and wise, and I know no fear.  But the truth is plain to see, she was sent to rescue me.  I see who I wanna be in my daughter's eyes.
1. Prologue

_Author's Note: Okay, yes, I am slightly insane to have two stories going simultaneously. But my juices are now flowing this direction, and besides that, I've kept you guys waiting long enough. Yes, I'm sure you've guessed it, this it the sequel to _Consequences._ So if any of you are reading this and you have not read _Consequences_, I highly suggest you go and do so before you continue here. I will reference and build on things that happened in that story, and while you may be able to follow along okay, everything will make so much more sense if you have the background behind this. But anyway, enjoy!_

Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck. Characters and settings are used without permission of Disney for non-profit purposes.

* * *

**Prologue**

Night had fallen in St. Canard. Heavy clouds shrouded the last remnants of the sunset and blotted out the crescent moon and stars that fought to show themselves in the absence of the sun's brilliance. There was almost an electrical charge in the thick, humid air, and a small wind was beginning to pick up speed, bringing with it the smell of a heavy rain. The night seemed to be hanging on the cusp of a dark and heavy storm, filling the entire city with an ominous sensation. Something dark was happening in the metropolis, and its effects were tangible even in the night itself.

As if in answer to that realization, a sudden scream rang out through the night, a scream so filled with terror and pain that it could make a duck's feathers stand on end. And it did, to the one person that heard it. And in that very moment, the moment when Joe Blow watched the scientist murdered, when he saw his life crumble before his eyes as the murderer turned and noticed him, the storm that had been building all evening broke. But this dockworker wasn't going to stick around to watch the finale. A jagged bolt of lightning sliced through the sky, illuminating the lone figure running between the buildings that composed St. Canard's warehouse district, the duck totally oblivious to the rain that now fell on him in torrents, so complete was his fear.

_What had I been thinking? _he thought, his mind still wrapped in the horror it had just witnessed. Every single fiber of his being had been screaming at him to leave, to get away from there as fast as he could, but _no_, he had to let his stupid curiosity get the better of him! Anyone with half a brain knew not to hang around when odd things were happening in the warehouse district, but apparently he didn't have even that! The duck wiped the pouring rain from his eyes as he tried to make out the looming shapes of the buildings surrounding him. There was usually a patrolman down near the docks. If he could only make it back there, he might have a chance!

A clap of thunder sounded, reverberating through the dockworker's already shaking frame, and bringing unbidden the memories from only a few moments ago. It was the sound that had initially drawn him to the building, some weird cross between numerous cheap sci-fi sound effects but with an intensity almost equal to the thunder still echoing in the night. And if had just been the sound, he wouldn't have stuck around; the lab coat worn by the figure inside was a clear indicator that another mad scientist was at work, and even his curiosity wasn't enough to overcome his common sense in that regard.

The bubble though, the bubble was different. The expanding blue orb of crackling energy that had appeared was mesmerizing, and once his eyes had seen it, he hadn't been able to look away. Not even the scientist's scrambling in the background as something clearly went wrong could tear his eyes away. Then the bubble had abruptly vanished, leaving the building as still and quiet as if nothing had ever happened.

He'd almost left then, almost saved himself from ruining his life, but another figure had appeared in the shadows, and his curiosity had been recaptured. The words that the shadow had spoken remained slightly blurred in his mind, he could only remember that it had been some sort of a backwards thank you, like the scientist had done him a favor with whatever experiment she'd just conducted, but it was what happened next that was burned deeply into his memory. A glint of silver had appeared with the shadowy figure and a single gunshot rang out. The scientist had seen it coming, seen the weapon that the worker could not and tried to duck, screaming a terrified call for help as she dove out of the way. The shadow's aim though left no room for her escape. The force of the bullet drove her back into the wall, turning her cry of fear into a cry of pain. She slumped down the wall to the floor, her hands clutched to her chest as the pain twisted her face. Then her eyes closed and she went limp, her hands slipping away to reveal a large red stain over the heart of her white lab coat.

Only then, when the horror of the murder had fully imprinted itself on his mind, and the rain began to pour on him in buckets could he regain his senses and get his rear out of there. He knew that the damage had already been done though; he was now knee deep in some shadowy murder between criminals. _Oh, why didn't I listen to my blasted instincts and just stay away!_

As he fled though, trying to put as much space between him and that cursed warehouse as possible, he heard a sound behind him, and his heart was squeezed in a fearful fist as he realized he was being pursued. This realization spurred him into an even faster pace as his adrenaline increased ten-fold, and with a speed he didn't know he possessed, the dockworker tore through the lonely streets of the warehouse district.

He heard the sound again, this time much closer and off to the right. Before he could wonder how in the world his pursuer had gained that much ground so fast, he was suddenly knocked of his feet by a heavy blow to his side. He hit the ground hard, the air leaving his lungs in a pained gasp, and he rolled a few feet before coming to a stop. It took a second for him to regain his stunned senses, but when he did, he sat up quickly, only to start in shock as he found a shadowy figure looming over him.

"Haven't you heard that curiosity killed the cat?" the shadow hissed, the rain dripping off its obscure features. The worker couldn't even determine his attacker's species in the poor lighting. The one thing he could be sure of though was the hate filling the eyes that glared down at him, hate that looked downright murderous.

"No matter," the figure continued, now seeming almost nonchalant. Its eyes turned toward the nearby skyscrapers of downtown St. Canard. "My plans are now in motion, and no insignificant dock worker is going to ruin them now."

"Who—who are you?" Joe stammered.

Those hateful eyes turned back on him, startling him with the cold fury burning in them. "I am this world's worst nightmare," growled the figure. Then it whipped out a weapon and fired on him point blank.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, a pair of figures stepped out into the streets of St. Canard and stood in the driving night rain, seemingly indifferent to the wet and windy storm that raged around them. Their outlandish clothing, erect forms and stoic expressions gave the pair a mysterious air, but nothing was as arresting as their piercing gazes, which seemed to penetrate the very night itself. Despite this, the late-night pedestrians hurrying through the weather paid the strangers no notice as they went past, some so oblivious that they nearly ran into the pair, forcing the figures back into the shadows of a dirty alley as the passerbys continued to ignore them. As they took in their surroundings, it became evident that the shorter of the pair was not as quite at ease as her companion.

"Are you sure this is right?" she asked quietly, looking around. "Surely this can't be the place!"

"Yes, this is it the place," her male cohort answered as he took in the familiar view of the city line, his appearance calm and impeccably collected. "He's definitely here. The experiment itself is proof of that."

"I don't feel any tremors though," the woman observed.

"The time isn't quite right. He'll do it though. I have no doubt of that."

"So we just wait?" she asked, turning her attention from the city line to her companion.

"That's all we can do," he replied. "We can't interfere yet, so we'll just wait, and watch." The woman's uncertainty was noticed by her companion. "Don't worry, we'll get him," he assured her. "He deserves nothing less after all that he's caused." An expression of cold anger managed to break through his calm as he spoke, registering with the woman before it was shoved back under the surface of his carefully composed exterior. When he spoke again a moment later, his tone betrayed no hint of the anger that had just surfaced. "Besides, we know where he has to go at some point or other."

"So you know where it is?"

The male nodded. "537 Avian Way."


	2. I Am A Hero

"In my daughter's eyes, I am a hero.

I am strong and wise, and I know no fear.

But the truth is plain to see,

She was sent to rescue me.

I see who I want to be

In my daughter's eyes."

-Martina McBride "In My Daughter's Eyes"

* * *

I Am a Hero

The following afternoon found the autumn sun shining brightly, its warm rays reaching into the crevices of St. Canard and evaporating all traces of the storm that had filled the night. The light illuminated a picture of normalcy: the business district conducting business as usual, the Audubon Bay Bridge backed up and fully gridlocked, and the suburbs filled with lawnmowers and barking dogs. Even in the schoolyard of St. Canard Elementary, a familiar scene was unfolding over the three figures that remained after the rush of the end-of-school bell.

"You yellow-bellied cowardly wuss!" one was saying. "I bet you're lying! I bet you won't do it because you're too chicken!"

An angry expression grew on the face of the girl in question. Her hands curled into tight fists at her sides as she heard the accusing words, and her entire body grew tense as she considered pounding the living daylights out of the person who dared to call her a liar and a coward. Gosalyn Mallard was steamed down to the roots of her fiery red hair.

She felt a hand tentatively touch her shoulder, temporarily distracting her from her anger. "Uh, Gosalyn," Honker said nervously from behind her, "you promised your dad."

Dang it! He was right, she had promised no more fights. She'd just gotten off the grounding she'd received from her last fight, and she definitely didn't want to get back on it. She would just have to go about this one a different way.

"Alright Tank," she said, a coy smile appearing on her beak. "Let's see you put your money where your big mouth is. I'll take your stupid dare if you can beat me home. Last one to touch the fence between our houses has to sneak into Principal Barnes' office this afternoon and set up the hairspray prank. "

"From school all the way home?" Tank said, his voice cracking slightly.

"What's a matter?" Gosalyn asked smugly, knowing full well the boy wasn't good at running long distances. "You chicken?"

"Ha!" Tank answered, his voice now full of bravado. "You wouldn't be able to beat a cow in a stupid contest, much less beat me! You're on!"

"Alright jerk! Five minutes to warm up, then Honker starts us off!"

As the pair quickly started to do a few warm-up stretches, Honker approached his friend. "Gosalyn," Honker said, "are you sure about this? The hairspray prank takes time to set up, and the last time you pulled it, your dad grounded you for a full month. Besides, didn't he say no more practical jokes?"

"Look Honk, he's never going to know!" Gosalyn replied somewhat impatiently. "He's over at SHUSH right now and won't be back until this evening, so I have the rest of the afternoon to do whatever I want, and he'd never find out. Besides, I really want to see Tank's face when Bigmouth Barnes catches him," Gosalyn replied. Their principal had a reputation for catching pranksters and giving them a loud, long-winded lecture. There was yet to be a prank pulled on her that she hadn't punished.

Gosalyn finished her stretches, and after tightening down her shoelaces, turned to Tank and asked, "You ready?"

"Ready when you are, simp!" came his nasty reply.

Gosalyn's eyes narrowed, but got herself down into the ready position and called to Honker. "Start us off, Honk!"

"Uh, on your mark. Get set. Go!" Honker said from the sidelines.

No sooner had the word "go" left Honker's beak than Gosalyn was off like a shot. She easily outdistanced Tank, pouring her energy and channeling her focus into getting to the fence first. She felt the rush of adrenaline pour through her system and the exhilaration of the race wash over her. She lived for moments like this. She was in her element, and she knew it.

Before very long the white picket fence that separated the Mallard and Muddlefoot homes came into view. She kept her eyes on the fence, willing her legs to move faster as the structure grew ever nearer. Then her hand was reaching out, and she felt the contact of the wood with her feathers as she went past, not even bothering to slow down until after she had tagged it. The race was over, and she had won!

She brought herself to a stop, and turned back to see where Tank was. It was with great amusement that she saw him just rounding the corner onto Avian Way five houses down. "What's a matter, Tank?" she called as she watched him huff and puff toward her, "Did you stop to have a stupid contest with a cow?" The duckling could see with satisfaction Tank's face contort with anger at her words.

Gosalyn leaned back against the fence, quite content to watch Tank drag himself to the finish line. As she jeered him on though, she felt a peculiar prickling sensation rise on the back of her neck, and was suddenly overcome by the odd feeling that she was being watched. She turned around, her green eyes searching for the source of her discomfort, but to her surprise, the street was totally empty. There wasn't even anyone out checking their mail. Despite the distinct loneliness though, that prickly feeling on her neck was still there.

Gosalyn stepped out closer to the curb, hoping to be able to get a better view of some of the yards further down the street. As soon as she did though, something heavy collided with her from behind, and she went tumbling forward in a heap. She squirmed under the weight of it, and craned her neck to see what was on her. "Tank, you big klutz! Get off me!" she yelled, seeing the boy on top of her.

"Me a klutz!" the boy said as he climbed back up to his feet. "Who's the one who stepped right into my way!"

"Yeah, well who was taking so long that I nearly died of boredom?" Gosalyn retorted, scrambling up off the cement sidewalk.

"Hey, it's not my fault you got here before me!" Tank answered, his face angry. "You cheated!"

Gosalyn's eyes flashed angrily. She could handle getting called a liar and a coward; everyone with any common sense knew she wasn't any of those. But when someone called her a cheater, they were going to pay. She rolled up her sleeves and stalked toward the boy. "Alright, that's it you empty-headed, no-good…"

* * *

"…double-crossing, ungrateful, sorry excuse for a right-hand man!"

"Gee, DW," Launchpad said, struggling to keep up with the shorter mallard as they went through the halls of SHUSH Central, "don't you think that's a little strong?"

"I can't help it!" Darkwing snapped, totally oblivious to the people scurrying out of his way as he continued his march down the hall. "You'd think that Gryz would be able to show a little appreciation, seeing as I recently saved J. Gander's life, but no, the louse is as surly and hateful towards me as ever! You'd think he blamed me for the entire incident! And then to top it all off, he tried to have security throw me out when I showed up, even though J. Gander specifically asked for me to come!"

"Well you have to admit, blowing Gryzlikof's paperwork all over the room with your gas bomb entrance isn't exactly the way to start things off on the right foot," Launchpad pointed out.

"It had to be dramatic!" the vigilante cried, his tone getting a little defensive. "I'm Darkwing Duck, the terror that flaps in the night, the savior of St. Canard, the champion of SHUSH, and the vanquisher of that villian Negaduck! I can't just walk in the front door! Besides," he added, rounding the corner towards the SHUSH labs, "that chump spends too much time on paperwork! I did him a favor by making him stop to clean up the mess!"

"If you say so, DW," Launchpad said as he pushed open the door, knowing that it would be fruitless at this point to try to convince the hero otherwise. He held open the door for Darkwing to go through, but the mallard just stood in the hallway looking at him, his arms crossed and a pointed expression on his face. "Uh, you coming?" the pilot finally asked after a minute.

"LP," Darkwing said as he reached into his jacket for something, his tone taking on a more condescending nature, "didn't we just discuss the fact that I am Darkwing Duck, and that I do not just walk in the front door?"

Launchpad looked at the door he was holding open. "Oh, uh, I guess this would kinda count as a front door, wouldn't it?" he said, turning back to his friend sheepishly.

Darkwing sighed and finished pulling out his gas gun. "Yes Launchpad, it would. Now if you'll excuse me..." The mallard fired a shot at his feet and disappeared into a cloud of thick blue smoke.

Launchpad turned back toward the lab and waited. This was one change about his friend that he didn't like. Ever since that Negaverse thing, Darkwing no longer let him join him in his gas-bomb entrances. He insisted that a side-kick should come in the side-door, not join the hero in his appearance, claiming that he needed Launchpad in case his audience tried to escape through the side door. Launchpad wasn't that dumb though; he knew Darkwing just wanted the limelight to himself. It saddened him though, and he missed the good old days when they went in together, but Launchpad knew better than to go in before Darkwing had made his entrance, his friend's overgrown ego wouldn't stand for it. So he just stood in the doorway and waited for the hero's trademark line. He didn't have to wait long.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night!" the words rang out, startling several scientists as a blue cloud began to form atop one of their work tables. "I am the agent who cuts your funding! I am Darkwiiing Duck!"

The duck's entry earned him a few irritated glares, but aside from that, the room paid little attention to the vigilante. Fortunately though, Launchpad noticed as he moved to join his friend, that the one who did pay attention to his arrival was the one that actually mattered.

Darkwing hopped down off the table. "No problem, J. Gander. Now what felonious fiends have you phoning in your famous, friendly fighter for freedom and justice?"

"Actually Darkwing, I was hoping to show some things that our lab has been working on. If you'll just step over here," the owl said, indicating a table where Sara Bellum was hard at work. The trio made their way through the maze of lab tables to the female scientist, who was so engrossed in her project that she didn't even bother to look up as they approached. After a moment of waiting, Hooter cleared his throat expectantly. "Dr. Bellum," he said, his tone indicating his displeasure at being ignored.

The tall duck's head snapped up, as though surprised at their presence. "Oh, I'm sorry Director," she said apologetically. "I just got so wrapped up in this project here I didn't notice you walk up. You know how I am when I'm working on a new gadget," she explained, letting out a lighthearted chuckle.

"What is that?" Darkwing asked, taking interest in the mess of parts spread across her table. His visits to SHUSH almost always ended up with him bringing back some new SHUSH gadget.

"This is the Long Range Equipment Transmission Amplifier, or just amplifier for short," Bellum said, taking obvious delight in discussing her pet project. "It's supposed to amplify the strength and signal of any electronic device, anything from a television remote to a laser beam. When I get through with this device, you could turn on your TV from the other side of the globe!"

"Dr. Bellum," Hooter interrupted as the scientist took a breath, "I was hoping to show Darkwing the improvements you've made in our security division."

"Oh of course!" Bellum answered, just as enthusiastic as before. She turned toward her computer and began the process of bringing up a program. As she did, she began to explain. "Well, before our updates, our scientists would just draw up their blueprints or write up their procedures in a hard copy, and turn them into their department head for approval. Their boss would approve it, they'd build it, and both the device and the blueprints would be stored in the vault without anything leaving the lab. Now that's generally good for security, but the experiment never left the confines of the lab, so no one outside the lab ever knew what was going on, and there were no checks and balances.

"But our team has just designed a highly sophisticated computer program for our scientists to use. Now, their plans are all digital, and are stored in our computer banks so that anyone with clearance can access them. Not only is it much more difficult for things to fall into the wrong hands because of all the pass codes and firewalls, but we have more checks and balances for our experiments."

The program finally appeared on the screen, and Bellum typed in her security key. "The system is heavily protected. Each person has their own login and password to get in, on top of biometric access, which only gives them access to what they're cleared for. Security keys get changed on a regular basis or when there's thought to be any breach in security. Scans are routinely run to detect any spyware or potential hackers, and any such things detected are automatically traced back to their source for proper removal.

"See, here's an example," Bellum continued, pulling up a file on the computer. A schematic of a glass capsule atop a box of wiring and parts appeared on the screen. "This is our new Electroatomic Transmitter. It allows us to break down and transport any object at the atomic level, and can be powered by any household plug in. In this file we have all the schematics, plans, modifications, and paperwork pertaining to this device." She scrolled down the page to show them all. "And because this has the potential to cause some serious problems if used incorrectly, this device has a beta security clearance, meaning only department heads and those who are currently involved in its development can access it, and that the device itself is stored off the compound at a secure facility." Bellum sighed dreamily, looking at the picture on the screen. "Isn't that just a work of art?"

"Yeah, a regular Mona Lisa," Darkwing said, his sarcasm betraying his impatience. He turned to the owl standing next to him. "Look, J. Gander, why are you showing me all this? I know your security is state of the art and the newest out there; I'm planning to upgrade to a similar system myself. What's the big deal?"

Hooter sighed. "In all honesty Darkwing, I felt you deserved to know about the changes we've made. We both know that SHUSH's systems, as modern as it may be, have had their problems. That episode with Negaduck three months ago though demonstrated just how faulty parts of our system were, and after all the problems that caused you, I felt you should see what we're doing to ensure it doesn't happen again. With this new setup," he continued, gesturing towards the computer screen, "I am able to call up any experiment or project and instantly have the complete file on everything being done with it. If something is not within the regulations of SHUSH protocol, it can be detected and shut down much more quickly. And at the same time, it should make things much harder for someone like Negaduck to get a hold of any of our inventions."

Launchpad didn't have to be a mind reader to know what was going through Darkwing's mind, and he didn't think it was quite what Hooter was expecting. Sure, the thing with Negaduck a few months back had been a close call, but ever since the fiasco, Darkwing had been getting a ton of media attention, something he had been craving even before Launchpad met him. Obviously some of the details of the matter were somewhat sensitive, but the word had gotten out that Darkwing had singlehandedly saved the entire world, and they had bathed him in attention ever since. The mallard was positively basking in it all, causing his ego to swell to a level that even Launchpad hadn't seen. In all honestly, he didn't think his friend would even mind something like that happening again, just to hear the world praise him even more. Darkwing didn't blame J. Gander for anything, simply because in his eyes, the whole thing had been worth it.

"Thanks, J. Gander," the vigilante replied, his eyes taking on the superior look that Launchpad knew so well. "But you know that Darkwing Duck can handle any curve balls that are thrown his way, no matter where they come from!"

Hooter didn't look comforted by Darkwing's confident words, but he continued on. "Well, rest assured Darkwing," he said, "this system will ensure that SHUSH won't be the ones throwing those curve balls any longer."

* * *

It was late that evening when Gosalyn spun into Darkwing Tower, her friend Honker at her side. She'd gotten here a little later than she'd planned (Tank took forever to set up that hairspray prank), but it had been worth it to see Tank's expression when Principle Barnes walked in on him as he was trying to leave. She'd watched from outside the window until the principle started in on her lecture, then made a discreet exit. She was going to enjoy rubbing this in Tank's face tomorrow.

Gosalyn glanced around the tower and spotted Launchpad immediately, his head buried under the hood of the Thunderquack. After another moment, she located her dad as well, standing over his chemistry table with a few vials in his hands, mixing what were probably the ingredients for his gas gun canisters. From their unbroken concentration and the comfortable silence that blanketed the tower, it was obvious that neither had noticed their arrival. But Gosalyn was never one for silence.

"HEY DAD!" she greeted enthusiastically, jumping out of the recliner to head over to them. Her unexpected and rather loud greeting startled Darkwing, causing Gosalyn to wince as he sloshed the chemical he was pouring onto his hand. She winced again as he cried out in sudden pain, dropping the vial he was holding as the chemical burned past his feathers, and then again as the hero realized what he did and fumbled to quickly try and stop the vial's fall. He was a second too late. The glass tube shattered as it hit the work table and its contents exploded, the force throwing Darkwing against the wall a few feet behind him, where he lay stunned and slightly burned.

Whoops! Gosalyn ran over to her dad's side, Launchpad and Honker at her heels. "Whoa DW, are you alright?" Launchpad asked from behind her as they approached the smoking mallard.

Darkwing shook his head to clear it, and then gingerly started to climb to his feet. "Gosalyn Mallard!" he scolded, his voice more certain than his movements. "How many times have I told you not to come bursting into this tower like a herd of wild elephants!"

She offered her hand to help the masked mallard up. "I don't know, a lot?" Her getting a scolding already meant that her dad was fine, so she could get away with a little flippancy.

"_Twenty-three times!_" her dad answered, having regained his feet. His tone quite clearly conveyed his annoyance.

The duckling felt her cheeks color slightly in embarrassment at his words. "Oh, you counted?"

Darkwing stopped brushing his costume off to give her a look. "Yes Gosalyn, it's kind of hard not to remember each and every one of them when your arrival is constantly heralded by chemical burns, refrigerator concussions, and twenty foot falls," he answered pointedly.

Gosalyn decided that it would be a good idea to change the subject before she found herself getting grounded. "So, uh, how did your trip to SHUSH go?"

Her dad's expression grew more annoyed at her less-than-subtle topic change, but to Gosalyn's relief, he decided to let it go and replied, "Fine. J. Gander's made some changes in security to make sure that something like that Negaverse episode a while ago doesn't happen again."

"Well good," Gosalyn said as Darkwing turned back to his chemical table, picking through the remains of his test tubes and bottles with a look of frustrated disgust. "It's about time they made that up to you. You were nearly abandoned in an alternate universe, shot, poisoned, beaten to a pulp, and splatted across the pavement from a ninety story fall, all within two days!"

Darkwing grimaced at his daughter's choice of words. "Yes, well, danger is all a part of the job when you're St. Canard's resident crime fighter," he said, his voice now assuming its all too familiar egotistical bend. "And who better to deal with it than Darkwiiiing Duck!"

Gosalyn started to turn away to head toward the computer when her dad started flaring his cape (he was always such a pain in the neck to be around when his ego kicked in) but his next words, spoken much softer than his last statement, stopped her dead in her tracks. "With, perhaps, a little assistance from the Quiverwing Quack."

Gosalyn swung around, not sure if she'd heard him right. "Really?" she asked, a hint of excitement welling up in her at the thought. "You're going to let me go with you?"

Darkwing nodded. "After all's that's happened recently, I've decided that its time I officially begin training you—"

"Whoooppppeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" Gosalyn cried, jumping into the air in her excitement.

"-with a few conditions," Darkwing finished, a smile playing at his beak. At Gosalyn's anxious expression, he elaborated. "One, you have to do exactly what I say. Two, you can only go out with me or with my express permission. Three, you will full-heartedly participate in any training exercises I give you, no matter how boring. And four, you keep up your grades. If you break any of these rules, you're done. No more Quiverwing Quack."

Gosalyn nodded eagerly. She finally had her dad's permission to join him on his crime fighting escapades, what were a few measly conditions? She'd known he'd been cooking something special up ever since he got out of the hospital a few months ago; those secretive nights by himself in the tower and that mischievous smile he gave her whenever she asked what he was doing had all been major hints that he was up to something. She'd never dreamed it would be anything as awesome as this though!

"Here," Darkwing said, going over to the changing room. "I've been working on this over the past few months, and I think it's time that you finally get to use it." He opened the door, and Gosalyn gasped in surprise. Inside stood two mannequins, one empty, where her dad's costume went, and beside it another, wearing a new and improved version of her Quiverwing Quack costume! Gosalyn was floored at her dad's craftsmanship. The improvised purple t-shirt had been replaced with a sleeveless, plum-colored tunic, not dissimilar from the very shade Darkwing wore, cinched at the waist with a green belt and gold buckle. At the neckline an ankle-length hunter green cape clasped, rising up around the neck in a stand up-color, and falling gracefully over the shoulders. The underside of the cape was a dark pink, again, not dissimilar from her father's own cape, and in place of the heavy gloves she'd worn before, there were light and fingerless plum colored gloves that stretched up the arm, doubling as an arm guard. And over the face of the mannequin stretched the most important piece of the costume: a velvety hunter green mask.

"It's great, Dad!" she exclaimed, nearly tackling him as she gave him a giant hug. "Thanks!"

"You're welcome kiddo," Darkwing answered with a chuckle, returning the embrace. He nodded towards the costume. "Now why don't you go get changed?"

Gosalyn happily complied, shutting the door and rapidly donning her new garb. The fabric felt light and flexible against her feathers, the perfect feel for a hero's attire. A hero… Gosalyn still couldn't get over the fact that her dad was actually letting her join him!

She stepped back out of the room where Honker was waiting for her and flourished her cape, letting him see the Quiverwing Quack for the first time in all her glory. The boy nodded approvingly. "You look good, Gosalyn," he said, adjusting his glasses.

"Thanks Honk!" the duckling answered. She noticed her dad had moved over to the Ratcatcher, where he stood in a deep discussion with Launchpad. Sensing her eyes, Darkwing turned, and gave her an approving smile as he saw her in the costume. She moved to join them, Honker at her heels, as the vigilante turned back to wrap up whatever conversation he'd been having with his sidekick. Gosalyn glanced back over her shoulder as they walked, and asked, "You going to come?"

Honker shook his head as he followed her. "My family has plans tonight. But Gosalyn," he said, changing the subject a little nervously, "don't you think you should tell your dad about this afternoon?"

"Shhh!" Gosalyn hushed, whirling back towards him so quickly that the boy stumbled backwards. "I don't want him to know!" she whispered, casting an anxious look back towards her dad at the Ratcatcher. "If he knew that I thought someone was watching me, he'd never let me go out on patrol with him!"

"Gosalyn, it happened twice though!" Honker said. "Once in your race with Tank, and later as we went to your house to come here! Don't you think that's a little strange?"

"Of course I do!" Gosalyn answered, her voice still quiet. "But it's something I'm going to take care of. I'm the Quiverwing Quack after all! If I can't handle someone watching me, then I should just take this mask back off now!"

"Who's watching you?" a voice asked. Gosalyn jumped in surprise, and turned to see Darkwing standing behind them, his eyes crinkled with the fatherly concern that Gosalyn had come to dread.

"Uh – nobody, at least that I know of," Gosalyn fibbed. Seeing the skepticism in her dad's eyes, she quickly added, "Honest!"

Darkwing didn't look convinced. But instead of pressing her, he turned to the boy at her side, and fixed him with a glare that Gosalyn knew would instantly cow her friend. "Is that true, Honker?"

"Well sir, uh, that is—" Honker stammered, pulling nervously at his collar.

Gosalyn gave in with a sigh. "Look Dad, it was just a feeling! I didn't even see anybody! And even if there was anyone watching me, it was probably just some nervous old lady who doesn't like kids running down the sidewalk! No match for the Quiverwing Quack!" she finished proudly, jerking a thumb toward her chest.

She saw a smile play at Darkwing's beak at her statement, but the doubt still remained in his eyes. The duckling decided to play the ace in her sleeve. "Besides, if someone did try to mess with me, I know that Darkwing Duck would send that creep back to where he belongs!"

Darkwing grinned outright now, her words stroking his well-established ego just as Gosalyn knew they would. "You bet I would! No peeping pervert is going to pervade the privacy of this parent's pubescent preteen!"

Gosalyn nodded eagerly, glad to have effectively distracted her dad from the matter at hand. "Should we get going? It's starting to get dark out…"

"She's right, DW," Launchpad called from over by the Ratcatcher. "The sun'll be down in the next few minutes."

"Alright then," Darkwing said agreeably, straightening his hat. "Let's go battle the boorish brutes of burglary and barbarity!" With a swish of his cape, Darkwing turned and moved to mount the Ratcatcher.

"I'll see you later Honk!" Gosalyn called to her friend as she followed her dad to the motorcycle. She joined Launchpad in the sidecar, and couldn't repress an excited grin as they took off down the bridge cable and into the Canardian evening.

* * *

At the foot of the bridge, a lone figure stood in the lengthening evening shadows, its gaze fixed on the towers above. It watched as the unique looking motorcycle appeared and sped quickly down the thick support cables, its powerful engine roaring as it picked up speed. _Your time draws near_, the figure thought as it glared hatefully at one of the riders._ My trap is laid, and the gears are already beginning to move. I shall soon have my revenge._

* * *

Author's Note: I do apologize for the length of this chapter, but it was necessary to set a few things up. And I know that the thing with DW counting how many times Gosalyn has done something has been done before by several different authors, and I'm really not trying to infringe upon their good idea, it just seems so characteristic of an exchange between the pair that I had to use it. So I do apologize if I stepped on anybody's toes with that one. One final thing, when I described Quiverwing's new costume, I was actually drawing from a picture created by a very talented artist (with her permission of course). I highly suggest you go and look at it and the other pictures in her gallery. If you're interested in that, just check out my profile for the link.


	3. Strong and Wise

"_In my daughter's eyes, I am a hero._

_I am strong and wise, and I know no fear._

_But the truth is plain to see,_

_She was sent to rescue me._

_I see who I want to be_

_In my daughter's eyes."_

-Martina McBride "In My Daughter's Eyes"

Strong and Wise

"Despite the darkness of his daunting domain, Darkwing Duck, dashing defender of denizens and domestics alike, drives through the dangerous streets, his diligent gaze determined and-"

"Sheesh Dad, give it a rest!" Gosalyn's exasperated voice broke in, the duckling rolling her eyes in the sidecar. "You'd think you were the narrator in some cheap cartoon, the way you're carrying on!"

Darkwing turned his eyes from the road long enough to shoot his daughter an irritated glance. "It's a hero's prerogative to narrate his exploits!" he replied testily, though the humor glinting in his eyes softened the tone.

"Yeah, but not at the expense of his listener's sanity," the red-head muttered. "It's getting to be worse than Tuskernini's monologues!"

Darkwing made a show of looking offended. "I'll have you know that was good enough to be on the front page of the Herald!" he responded. "In fact, I think I'll suggest that next time some reporter interviews me!"

Gosalyn rolled her eyes again. "Yeah, and if he prints it, the poor guy's going to get fired for too much alliteration. That was like what, fourteen 'd' words?"

"It would have been seventeen if you would've let me finish," Darkwing muttered. He glanced at his daughter out of the corner of his eye, a hint of mischief playing at his features. "That's what I need to get you for your next birthday. A thesaurus. Once you start narrating your own exploits, you'll have a much better appreciation for my linguistic skills."

Gosalyn looked properly horrified. "You're thinking about getting me a _book_ for my _birthday? _ When there are so many neat toys and crime fighting gadgets? Have you gone _nuts_?_"_

"The jury's still out on that one," Launchpad piped up from behind the duckling, earning a look from Darkwing. Gosalyn chuckled, noticing the playfulness in her dad's eyes.

"So Dad, when do I get my own motorcycle?" Gosalyn asked, shifting topics as the Ratcatcher continued to tear through the downtown streets.

Darkwing pulled glanced at her again. "Maybe when you're sixteen," he answered with a wry smile.

"Sixteen?" Gosalyn repeated in disappointment. "By that time I'll have grown up and learned to be responsible with it!"

The masked hero chuckled. "That's the idea, kiddo."

"Can't have you busting up that head of yours until it's hard enough to take it," Launchpad added.

Darkwing repressed a smile as Gosalyn started muttering about how he always saved the fun stuff for himself. Her good natured pouting was a sign that she was coming off of the barely contained excitement from earlier, but the thrill of everything still shone brightly in her green eyes.

Behind her though, Launchpad's expression was a little more pensive. The burly pilot loved Gosalyn like a brother, and still harbored his own doubts about Darkwing letting her join them in their dangerous fight against crime. Many of his worries were the same ones Darkwing had held, and try as he might, Darkwing had not been able to set his sidekick completely at ease about the matter.

Darkwing had actually been kicking around the idea of letting his daughter join them for quite a while, even before her first stint as the Quiverwing Quack. The one thing that had held him back was the thought that he might not be able to train her well enough to protect her from the confrontations with the criminal element that he knew would come, and that when it happened, he wouldn't be there to save her. That was the root of his initial reluctance: that he would lose his little girl.

After the recent events with Negaduck though, his reluctance had slowly evaporated. He had just saved the world for Pete's sake! The whole city was singing his praises! If he could do that, then surely he could do something as simple as training his daughter. Besides, he had it in mind not to truly expose her to the darker side of his battle against crime, not until she was properly and thoroughly trained. A faint smile tugged at his beak. Yes, she'd be mad at him if she realized what it was he was doing, but so help him, he was going to shield her from danger until he was sure that she could hold her own.

A beeping on his dashboard interrupted his thoughts. "Burglar alarm!" he cried, relishing the thought of the first arrest of the night. "Clam Gas Station!"

"Keen gear!" Gosalyn said, pulling out her bow. "Let's go!"

Darkwing shot his enthusiastic daughter a grin, then swung a U-turn, revving the Ratcatcher's engine and speeding towards the plundered station.

* * *

In an upscale St. Canard penthouse apartment, St. Canard's highest official, Mayor Edward Pike, sat in his office, his eyes moving over the documents before him with the ease of practice, taking in the information and searching for any potential loopholes. While it was certain the deal enclosed in the papers before him would be of good benefit, if he could find a back door in this contract, he wanted to have it ready to use, just in case. It wouldn't do to have this brought to light without a way to prove plausible deniability.

The soft sound of his clock chiming the hour grabbed his attention, and he tore his eyes from the stack of paper to glance at the time. Nine o'clock. His guest should be here any time now.

Glad for an excuse to rest his eyes, the mayor tossed the papers aside and reached for his drink, feeling the tepid liquid rush down his throat with a satisfying smoothness. Normally he wouldn't risk letting his guest be seen at his home, but this time he had a legitimate reason to hide behind, and as long as his wife was out and couldn't hear the conversation, no one would ever be the wiser to what actually went on here tonight.

The intercom off to his right buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. "Excuse me, Mayor Pike?" came the voice of the security guard stationed downstairs.

The mayor pressed down a button. "Yes Arnie?"

"Adam BarkArthur is here. He claims he has an appointment with you, but it isn't in the books."

"It's alright Arnie, let him up," Pike replied, feigning resignation. Everyone knew that BarkArthur's attempts to get in to see the mayor, though staged for the spectators' benefit, had been bordering on harassment. Now the guard would think that the mayor had finally just gotten tired of it all and decided to get it over with.

Pike gathered up the papers scattered across his desk, then went over to the wet bar to refill his drink. He frowned at the nearly empty bottle. Didn't he just replace an empty one? Surely he wasn't actually... No, his wife must be getting into it more. That would explain her standoffishness lately.

The chime of the elevator door announced the arrival of his guest, and shoving thoughts of his marriage problems from his mind, Pike turned to see his new partner walk through the door. "Adam," he greeted, reaching forward to shake his guest's hand.

"Ed," the weasel returned, his handshake strong and hardy. "Let's get down to business."

* * *

Quiverwing crept along the darkened hallway, her slippered feet sliding noiselessly along the tiled floor. The string of her bow lay taut beneath her fingers, the potential energy coiled into the string a reflection of the energy and excitement that were ready to burst out of the duckling. The Quiverwing Quack was ready for whatever slime bag dared to cross the line of justice.

Her eyes carefully scanned the shadows as she moved, her steps silent and her movements so furtive it would have made a vampire proud. As she continued down the corridor, the distant sounds of her target became audible, the thumps and clinking of a bank safe being robbed, the careless noise a clear indicator of their arrogant self-confidence. In the darkness, the masked duckling could just make out the turn at the far end of hall, the turn that would lead to her quarry. With excitement rising in her as tangibly as her last sugar rush, Quiverwing hastened her steps, her arrow nocked and ready to fly. This crook was going _down_!

Then a sound reached her ears that filled Quiverwing with dread. "No!" she whispered, breaking into a run towards the turn. "Not again!"

The sound became clearer as she neared the turn, confirming the duckling's fears. "-the surcharge on your ATM! I am Darkwing Duck!"

Quiverwing rounded the corner and skidded to a stop in the doorway, hoping it wasn't too late as her eyes desperately seeking a target in the blue smoke that filled the room. The smoke was already starting to dissipate though, and Quiverwing lowered her bow in frustration as she saw the figures in the middle of the room: the unconscious forms of Megavolt and Quackerjack lying in a heap with a triumphant Darkwing standing on top of them.

"Yep yep yep," the hero said, jumping off the pile and tucking his gas gun away. "Just another daunting defeat of Darkwing Duck's most devilish adversaries!" The mallard was totally oblivious to his daughter's building irritation

But Quiverwing wasn't going to let him just walk away again. "Dad!" she cried, not caring if the unconscious thugs heard, "you did it _again!_ You said you were going to let _me_ have this one!"

"Actually, I said you could come in the back, and I would take the front. The front person isn't always just a distraction you know," he replied, a self-satisfied smile on his beak.

Quiverwing wanted to pull her hair out by the roots. "What is the _point_ of letting me become Quiverwing if you won't even let me take on the bad guys?"

"I did so let you take on the bad guys," Darkwing protested lightly as he moved to tie up the unconscious villains. "There was that first guy."

"Yeah, _one_ guy, a common thug at a _gas station_! I could have taken him out in my sleep! _You_ took out Tuskerninni at the theater, and Amonia Pine at the tennis ball plant, and Moliarty in the park, and now these guys!"

Darkwing's face took on that protective expression again. "Look Quiv-" he started.

"Hey guys," Launchpad's voice interrupted from the side door. "There's a robbery in progress just down the street. The police and reporters are already there."

"Then let's get dangerous!" Darkwing said, forgetting their conversation and taking off for the Ratcatcher with a flourish of his cape.

Quiverwing sullenly followed, muttering under her breath. "There'd better be some major changes tonight, or else that thing with the VCR, peanut butter, and sealing wax is going to seem like a walk in the park…"

* * *

It was evident the instant they stepped outside the door which building was the one in question. The entrance to the business complex was swamped with flashing police cars, insistent reporters, and curious bystanders. As soon as the trio approached the entrance, the reporters, who had been met with a brick wall in the form of the police, jumped on them the second they saw them.

"Darkwing, are you planning to get involved in a robbery as simple as this one?" one called out, thrusting his microphone in the mallard's face as the mass of newscasters surrounded them like a pack of ravenous hyenas.

"Is the Quiverwing Quack going to be assisting you?" another shouted.

"Do you have any further comment about Negaduck's usage of SHUSH's universal device three months ago?"

"What do you think about the current price of tomatoes?"

At first, Darkwing seemed overwhelmed by the number of questions being thrown his way, but then seemed to relax and get a regain control as his ego soaked in the attention. "Whoa, whoa, one question at a time," he said with a smile, quieting the hoard with his hands.

"Are you going to get involved in a simple one person heist in light of your recent accomplishments?" a single reporter called out.

"Of course!" Darkwing said, scoffing as if the question was utterly ridiculous. "No crime is too small to merit the attention of St. Canard's resident crime fighter!"

Quiverwing saw an opportunity. "But in this case," she jumped in, "he's going to have me and Launchpad handle this while he stays to answer your questions." She shot her dad her most winning smile. "Right Darkwing?"

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he sensed the predicament she'd just put him in. Let her go handle a crook without him so he could save face and continue to soak up the media attention he loved so much, or brush all the reporters off and risk losing their favor? Quiverwing knew though that the odds were on her side. It was just a common thief in a bunch of offices after all, there were already police in there, and there were a _lot_ of reporters out here…

"Right," he finally said, turning back to the crowd. "Quiverwing Quack will take care of this nefarious nobody while I answer the questions you've all been dying to ask me."

Quiverwing grinned as she turned and headed toward the building's entrance, Launchpad at her heels. At last, she was finally going to have the chance to take someone out herself without her dad breathing down her neck! _After tonight, _she thought,_ there's no way he's going to be able to call me 'inexperienced'._

Before going into the building, the duckling stopped to touch base with one of the cops, and see if they had any information that could help her. The officer said that to their knowledge, there was one perp holed up somewhere near the back of the building on the second floor. They had all the entrances and exits covered, but so far there'd been no word from the cops they'd sent after him. "We'd been planning to send more in, but then you and Darkwing showed up…" the officer trailed off.

Quiverwing nodded. "Don't worry Officer Blair," she said confidently, pulling her bow from its place on her back. "Launchpad and I will have this taken care of in no time."

With that, the duckling entered the building.

* * *

At first, things had seemed like they were going to be a piece of cake. Quiverwing had made it to the back of the second floor without any problem, and she hadn't heard a sound from the perp, or seen any sign of all the cops that had come in after him (or her). This in itself was a bit odd to her, and she had increased her vigilance, making sure that nothing escaped her notice. But that feeling of invincibility that had got her through so many encounters with the criminal element was strong, and not even the absence of the dozen officers that had been sent in was upsetting it. At least, not until now.

As she approached the closed door to the office furthest back in the building, she began to get a bad feeling. This was the last room left for her to check, and for some reason she couldn't explain, she was almost afraid to open the door. She paused for a moment, her hand on the doorknob, and took a breath, trying to marshal her strength. She felt a hand gently touch her shoulder, and looked up to see a concerned Launchpad looking down at her.

"You okay?" he whispered.

Quiverwing nodded. "Yeah, just jitters I think," she replied. _I hope,_ she added mentally. She flashed Launchpad a smile. "You ready?"

The bigger duck nodded. "You bet."

"Okay." Quiverwing took one more breath, then opened the door. She gasped as her eyes fell on what was inside.

Inside the room were every single policemen that had come into the building, lying motionless on the floor and looking for all the world like they were dead.

Quiverwing squashed the impulse to rush in and check for pulses, and instead carefully scanned the rest of the darkened room, looking to see if the perp was hiding somewhere in the shadows. It wouldn't do the cops any good if she went in to help and got herself hurt in the process. The room was large and rectangular, stretching off to her right where the desk and other furniture were. She could vaguely make out a door on that side of the office, probably leading to a private bathroom or to a connecting office, and unless the crook was hiding under the desk, that's where they had to be.

The duckling quietly picked her way through bodies littering the floor, making her way towards that door. Halfway there, she knelt down and checked the pulse of the officer closest to her, being careful to keep an eye out so there was no chance she could be snuck up on. To her relief, her fingers quickly found a rapid, thready pulse. If all the cops were like this, they should be okay until the perp was caught.

The young hero slowly stood back up. There was still something terribly wrong about this though. Her gut was practically screaming at her to get out. She glanced at Launchpad's tense face, and could see her own anxieties displayed clearly in his face. Maybe they should have waited to go with Darkwing after all…

"Launchpad," the duckling whispered urgently, "I don't like this. Let's-"

The sudden slamming of a door interrupted her words. She whipped around, an arrow poised and ready to be sent flying. But the arrow was soon lowered as she saw what she was up against.

"Welcome," the intruder said, a diabolical grin on his face. "I've been waiting for you."

* * *

"And what about the Quiverwing Quack?" a reporter asked. "What are her origins?"

Darkwing sighed. For the past twenty minutes, he'd been answering the reporter's questions, questions that were mostly about the incident with Negaduck a few months ago, and he answered them all with all the style and talent a hero of his caliber should have. The topic had shifted though in the last couple minutes, and the masked mallard was now realizing that interviews really did tend to get tedious when they weren't focused on him. "Well, of course a lot of it had to do with my encouragement and guidance. You might say I was her inspiration," he replied, flashing the cameras his most dazzling smile. Hopefully that would get them all back on subject.

The stubborn reporter though appeared oblivious to his attempt. "Yes, but where did she come from? How did she get started here in St. Canard?"

"Unfortunately I can't give you too many specifics there. You know, secret identity and all."

"Well yes, but couldn't you give us _something_? We know, after all, a little about how Gizmoduck got started."

Darkwing rolled his eyes and blocked out the reporter's nasally voice as they continued on about Gizmoduck's origins. His gaze wandered to the building next door, a cute little thatched cottage that looked completely out of place in the middle of a commercial district. Something about that building struck him as familiar, as if he should know it. He searched his memory for where he might have seen it. _Wait,_ the mallard thought, his eyes locking on the building as a disturbing thought occurred to him. _ Is that…?_

He stepped away from the hoard of reporters, surprising them with the suddenness of his actions as he approached the building. The business was closed and locked up tight, but Darkwing moved to one of the windows, straining his eyes to see through the darkness. He couldn't see anything through the front windows, but urged on by the unsettled feeling in his stomach, he ignored the pestering questions of the reporters that had followed him and moved to a side window. From there, he was just able to see into what looked to be a back room. The interior was pretty bare, just shelving and a few boxes, along with a single table in the middle of the room. But on that table sat a horribly familiar wedding cake.

As soon as Darkwing's eyes fell on it, the meaning of its presence came on him in a rush. He turned back toward the office complex as a sudden fear took hold of him. _No, it couldn't be!_

Overcome by panic, he shoved his way through the crowd of reporters and bolted into the building, racing up the stairs at a speed comparable to the racing of his heart. The halls and rooms passed by in a blur as he frantically searched for any sign of his daughter and friend. At last he came to the room with unconscious policemen, and there he stopped, horror gripping him. Quiverwing and Launchpad were nowhere to be seen, but in the middle of the room lay Quiverwing's bow and quiver, the bow splintered and broken, and the quiver with the blade of a familiar chainsaw going right through the center.


	4. Know No Fear

_"In my daughter's eyes, I am a hero._

_I am strong and wise, and I know no fear._

_But the truth is plain to see,_

_She was sent to rescue me._

_I see who I want to be_

_In my daughter's eyes."_

_-Martina McBride "In My Daughter's Eyes"_

* * *

Know No Fear

"We interrupt this program with a breaking news bulletin. While assisting the police in what appeared to be a routine case of corporate espionage, the Quiverwing Quack, a popular, though infrequent hero in St. Canard, along with sidekick Launchpad McQuack, appear to have been kidnapped by an unknown adversary. We take you to Tom Lockjaw, who is live at the scene. What's going on Tom?"

"Well Vivian, that's exactly what the police are trying to figure out," the well-groomed reporter replied. "The department received an anonymous call of a break-in at the Oxford Business Complex by an armed intruder, and responded immediately with three patrol cars. However, none of the officers who went out of that building came back out or responded to their radios, and neither did the other six officers who went in after them.

"The department was waiting for a S.W.A.T. team when the well-known Darkwing Duck showed up on the scene, along with his sidekick Launchpad McQuack and the Quiverwing Quack. While Darkwing remained to respond to our unit's many questions concerning the recent incident with S.H.U.S.H., Quiverwing and Mr. McQuack went into the building.

"After a short interview though, Darkwing Duck abruptly left our cameras to examine a local bakery, the same bakery that's off to my left. After looking in the windows, he suddenly flew into the Oxford building in what can only be described as a panic. Not ten minutes later, he came back out, without Quiverwing or Mr. McQuack. He ignored all our questions, but ran straight to his motorcycle and took off, even blowing through a red light in his haste.

"When the S.W.A.T. team showed up five minutes later, they found no trace of the Quiverwing Quack, Mr. McQuack, or of this mysterious intruder that had managed to somehow drug into unconsciousness the dozen police officers who came in after him."

"So what do the police think happened?" Vivien asked.

"At this point, the only thing Police Chief Graham Bim will say is that whatever _did_ happen in that building, the police will do everything in their power to make sure that justice is served. It's pretty obvious to everyone here though that a kidnapping took place. The question is though, by whom? Is it an old adversary of Darkwing Duck, who is trying to get revenge? Is it someone new? And will Darkwing be able to save his companions when the kidnapping happened practically right under his beak during a news interview?

"I mean, even under recent events, Darkwing's _questionable_ background in St. Canard leaves a lot of room-"

The television winked off, the blank screen now displaying only the reflection of a menacing, grinning figure. Rising from the dilapidated arm chair in which he sat, Negaduck went to the closest window and looked out towards Canardian skyline and mentally replayed the news report, relishing just how well the night had went.

Everything had gone as smoothly as he could have hoped for, and the media was playing things up, just like he wanted. And right now, Darkwing Duck was probably about ready to drop dead from anxiety from what had happened to his "dear sweet daughter" and sidekick. That mental image was enough to make him almost giddy with delight.

With a self-satisfied grin on his beak, the mallard turned from the window, casting a glance at the locked doors where his unconscious guests were held. He was taking no chances by putting them together. Quiverwing was Darkwing's daughter, and while naïve and inexperienced, was almost certainly no incompetent when it came the criminal element. And putting her in the same room as Darkwing's sidekick? No, he wasn't going to give them even the hope of possible escape. And with them now in his grasp, the world would soon bow to meet his demands.

Chuckling as he relished the thoughts of what was to come, the mallard went to a nearby table and picked up from its contents a roll of film. His smile widened. It was almost time to put the next phase of his plan into action.

* * *

The shadowed figure forced himself to relax his fisted hands and take a breath as the newscast ended. _I'm standing here watching this happen, _he thought angrily, his eyes fixed on the black television screen,_ and have the ability to do something about it, and yet here I am, standing here like a coward on the sidelines!_

As if in answer to his thoughts, his companion said, "I know it's hard to just stand by and watch, but if we're to accomplish our mission, we can't get involved, at least not yet. Not until we see his hand in things. For now, we stay focused on our target."

"I know," he answered, his tone carefully controlled to convey none of the anger he felt. "I just can't help but think how this must be affecting everyone."

* * *

A lone motorcycle tore through the pre-dawn morning, the driver taking the corners and turns of the near empty streets at a speed that bordered on suicidal. The few drivers who were lucky be mere spectators immediately dubbed the biker as 'drunk as a skunk', and counted their blessings that they weren't in the way. The apparent recklessness of the driver though was in direct contrast to his hyper-vigilant gaze, and if one were able to get a good look at him, they could immediately see that it was fear and desperation that truly drove the vehicle at that speed, not alcohol.

The bike rounded another corner, the cycle threatening to topple as Darkwing's knee nearly grazed the pavement.

_Oh Gosalyn, Launchpad, where are you?_

* * *

Later that morning, when the business world was just starting to awake, a certain building in St. Canard's infamous warehouse district was attracting more than its usual crowd. The numerous government vehicles and Derek Blunt type agents swarming around the warehouse was more than enough to catch the eye of the few workers passing by. In spite of whatever curiosity they may have felt though, the workers kept their eyes on ground and their minds on their work, as though nothing abnormal was happening. Not even when a well-known government official showed up did they let their gazes linger, but continued past as quickly as possible.

As he got of his car, J. Gander Hooter took immediate notice to the lack of curiosity surrounding the building. Not that he was surprised though. The warehouse district of St. Canard was often frequented by the city's more unsavory characters, and it was common knowledge that more than one worker had been killed because of things that they'd seen or knowledge they'd obtained. Here, blind eyes and deaf ears were the key to survival.

Despite this, the director made a mental note to have his chief agent interview any workers that had been on duty the night before. He knew the odds of learning anything from them were slim, but nothing should be overlooked.

The owl stepped inside the warehouse and surveyed the interior, his experienced eye taking in the details of the scene before him. There were SHUSH agents everywhere, swarming around the elaborate set up in the middle of the warehouse, over the wares stacked against the walls, and around the dead body on the floor. Hooter sighed as his eyes settled on the shape beneath the white sheet. He had hoped that this experiment was behind them. The owl had had no idea that Dr. Dora was that desperate, desperate enough to break the law, and desperate enough to put her life at risk. This experiment was becoming quite the thorn in SHUSH's side. It was bad enough when it had caused the creation of a life form that had plagued the city ever since its 'birth', but now, the experiment had taken a life. The question now though, was what damage had been done. Had the containment field breeched? How far had the experiment gone?

"Director!" a voice called. Hooter turned to see his chief agent, Gryzlikof hurrying over to him, a small binder in his hand.

"Your report, Agent Gryzlikof," Hooter said as the bear drew near.

"Vell sir, ve have confirmed that it was the tron experiment Dr. Dora was doing," Gryzlikof replied, his voice thick with his Russian accent, "but we are not knowing much else. Ze computer memory has been wiped, and all ze equipment was either not used or reset to its original state. However we are finding ze doctor's notes." The bear handed the binder over to his superior.

Hooter flipped through the small notebook. Many of the pages were filled with formulas and notations for the experiment that were far beyond the director's understanding of the subject, but there were a few comments sprinkled throughout the book that were of a more personal nature, comments that revealed just how much hatred the scientist had for SHUSH.

He sighed and closed the book. "Do we know where she got the equipment?" Hooter asked, turning his attention to the camera-like device set up on a tripod near the control panel.

"Not yet, sir," the bear replied, following as Hooter stepped closer to the instrument.

Hooter carefully examined the device, the top of which stood almost a foot taller than he was. After a moment, he asked, "Is this Megavolt's tronsplitter?"

Gryzlikof joined him in his examination. "I am not knowing," he said as he looked it over. "It could be." The bear stepped back. "I have not seen the tronsplitter in person. All that is in ze file is a description."

"Yes," Hooter replied. "The only people we know of that have seen the device besides Megavolt himself are Darkwing Duck and his sidekick."

Gryzlikof snorted. "That buffoon could not be telling a tronsplitter from a toaster oven."

Hooter sighed. Even in spite of the fact that Darkwing had recently saved Hooter's own life, his chief agent had still not gotten over his dislike for the vigilante. The owl wouldn't have been surprised if Gryzlikof actually blamed the mallard for the whole episode. He still hoped though that someday the two would be able to get over their animosity for each other. Maybe the day Steelbeak joined SHUSH.

"See what intel has on Megavolt's current hideout," Hooter said, bringing himself back to the issue at hand. "Then tap our sources, see if there's any word about the tronsplitter on the street."

"Yes, sir," Gryzlikof answered, taking notes.

"Now what of Dr. Dora?" Hooter asked, focusing on the body on the floor. "Are there any indications as to how she died?"

"It is looking as though she was killed by a direct gunshot to the chest, but there are no signs of robbery or intrusion, so we are thinking that ze doctor committed suicide in a fit of guilt. We are having ze weapon, and it is registered in ze doctor's name."

Hooter nodded thoughtfully. Though the method was abnormal for a suicide, in light of all the evidence it was a probable theory. "Make sure, Agent Gryzlikof. I don't want this case to have any loose ends."

"Yes sir. I am sure though that zis will just be an open and shut case."

Hooter hoped that for once, it would be.

* * *

At city hall, Mayor Edward Pike was developing a headache.

"-and so I insist that this city council must do something about it! It just isn't right, a respectable citizen having to put up with such things!" the woman at the podium ranted.

"Yes, thank you Mrs. Crablegs," Mayor Pike said quickly, jumping in before the crusty old lady could start up again. "We'll look into that."

The woman looked as though she was about to say something else, but changed her mind and gave a curt nod before stepping away from the podium. Pike sat back in his chair with a sigh of relief. Sebastia Crablegs seemed to take offense at the world. Every single city council meeting, the woman ranted about some tiny thing that was "a menace to society" or that "interfered with her rights as a citizen". Last time it was the light outside her apartment that was shining through her curtains and disturbing her sleep. This time it was that the crossing signal at Fourth and Swallow didn't leave enough time for "any normal person to cross without having to sprint". It wouldn't be so bad if that was all it was, but after twenty minutes of listening to that crotchety old woman's voice, despite the time limit imposed upon public communication, it got rather trying.

"Well, if that's all," the council president said, "I'd like to make a motion to revisit the topic of giving Darkwing Duck the key to the city. We should really finalize this before-"

"Actually, Mr. President," a voice called out from the audience, "I have something I'd like to bring to the council's attention."

Pike could see the president give an almost imperceptible sigh. "Very well. Please come forward sir."

There was some movement near the back of the room, then Pike saw a short figure in a trench coat moving toward the podium, his face shadowed and nearly hidden by the brim of a large hat. The fact that he couldn't tell much of anything about the figure, except his avian nature, stirred some suspicion in Pike's mind, and for some reason he couldn't explain, the mayor had a sudden fear of this person rise in his chest. And despite his effort to squash the ridiculous feeling, an ominousness seemed to hang over the duck as he took the podium and began to speak.

"Mr. President, esteemed council members, I would like to bring to your attention a gross misuse of city funds. As much as it pains me to make public such a smear to the reputation of the St. Canard administration, I cannot allow such a blatant disregard of the law to remain hidden." His voice now bore a pronounced note of regret. "It has come to my attention that Mayor Edward Pike has been directing money from the treasury towards BarkArthur Industries for a deal made for personal profit, and without the council's knowledge."

Pike could feel his face flushing as the accusation hung in the air. _How could he possibly know that?_ he thought, mentally going back over all the precautions he took. _I was so careful with everything!_

He suddenly became conscious of the chamber's eyes on him, and of the whispers being passed in the audience, and he found his voice. "You, sir are out of your mind," he said, directing himself towards his accuser and infusing his voice with a quiet, indignant anger.

"Maybe," the duck replied, an odd glint in his eyes. The official couldn't help but shudder under the gaze of those dark orbs. The duck turned his attention back to the council as a whole. "But perhaps the council will take these photos as evidence of my accusation. " The mallard reached into his jacket and pulled out a stack of eight by ten photos, then tossed them onto the floor between the podium and where the council sat. Even from where he was, Pike could see a photo of himself shaking hands with BarkArthur at the top of the pile.

"I also have a video," the duck continued, revealing small video cassette, "that shows the mayor meeting with Adam BarkArthur to discuss their contract, and I have a copy of that contract, which details Mayor Pike's intentions and plans to use more than 5 million dollars of tax payer money without the council's or even the treasurer's knowledge."

Pike felt himself shaking. His entire life was crumbling before his eyes. All the explanations he'd come up with, all the loopholes he'd found, all the work he'd done, were utterly useless in the face of such overwhelming evidence. He would lose his position as mayor at the least, and likely be sent to jail for his embezzlement while having to pay every dime back. This person had utterly ruined him, effectively eliminating every opportunity he had to preserve his dignity.

So focused was he on his own ruin that he failed to notice the chaos among the audience and council members, nor the president adjourning the meeting in an effort to try to restore order, nor the predatory smile on the face of the duck as he slipped out of the room.

* * *

The western sky was already afire with the yellow and orange rays of sunset by the time the Ratcatcher pulled back into Darkwing Tower. The bike showed every sign of being overworked, from the steaming hot engine to the bald tires to the unhealthy puffs of black smoke pouring from the tailpipe. The engine shut off and the motorcycle seemed to sag in relief, as if glad to be able to rest from its labor.

The rider however was a different story. Though obviously fatigued and distraught, the mallard paid no attention to the neglected bed and kitchen that beckoned to him, but instead, after pulling off his helmet and tossing it into the conspicuously empty sidecar, he made his way over to the computer platform where he collapsed miserably into a chair, his head dropping into his hands.

"Dispirited and desolate, Darkwing Duck, the denizens' defective detective and his daughter's deficient daddy, dismally decides…" The mallard couldn't bring himself to finish. What was the point? His daughter and best friend were missing, and he was sitting here making up alliterations! Despite his burning desire to be doing _something_, a despairing hole in his chest whispered, _What else can you do?_

He had been searching the city high and low ever since Gosalyn and Launchpad's disappearance, pouring over the crime scene, checking every possible villain hideout and even a few hero hideouts, and had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. Some hero he was. He didn't even deserve to be called Darkwing Duck. Darkwing Duck was supposed to be the people's champion, supposed to be able to save the day and rescue people from the clutches of evil. And what did he do? Not only was he so incompetent that he couldn't even find his own daughter and best friend, but he practically handed them over on a silver platter to his worst enemy!

His stomach clenched tightly with fear as the mallard thought of Gosalyn and Launchpad in the clutches of a homicidal psychopath, whose hobby was to blow up cities for fun. The thoughts of what Negaduck could be doing to them, what he was capable of doing… Darkwing started trembling as a cold sweat broke through his feathers. The worst part of it all though, the part that kept eating at him, was that Darkwing _knew_ he could have prevented it.

"She _told_ me she was being followed!" the vigilante burst out, his fear transforming into anger at himself. He gestured violently in the air as he gave vent to the guilt plaguing him. "And did I do anything about it? NO! Of course not! I let my blasted EGO get in the way! And if that doesn't make me the worst father to ever walk the planet, I let her go into a strange building against a dangerous, unknown enemy without me, just so I could hold a press conference! Me and my stupid headlines! I'm not a hero, I'm a worm. A miserable bug! A germ! Oh," the mallard moaned, dropping his head back into his hands as his anger evaporated, "if anything happens to either of them…"

Unwanted, the mental images of a future without Gosalyn and Launchpad filled his mind. Darkwing raked his fingers painfully through his feathers as the pictures of an empty home, a silent tower, and the accusing ghosts that would haunt him for the rest of his life tormented the mallard. He didn't deserve such wonderful people in his life. He had failed them not only as a hero, but also as a father and friend. What kind of person would throw away his family for the sake of his own ego? He might as well have arranged the whole kidnapping himself, for all the good he was! He was surely the most miserable, disgraceful being to ever exist on the face of the earth.

"Oh Gosalyn, Launchpad, if only I could undo everything," the mallard moaned bitterly.

A beeping on his computer interrupted his thoughts, indicating an incoming communiqué. Darkwing was at first half-tempted to ignore it, but then realized that it might be something relating to Gosalyn's and Launchpad's abduction. J. Gander Hooter had undoubtedly heard of the kidnapping and had some of his best agents working on it. No matter how rotten a person the mallard was, he couldn't let any potential lead escape his notice. After replacing his hat on his head and smoothing his disheveled feathers, he had the computer bring it up. To his shock and intense hatred though, it wasn't J. Gander Hooter that filled the screen.

"Greetings, Darkwing," Negaduck said, a self-satisfied grin appearing on his beak as he took in the vigilante's tired and worried appearance. "I trust you're doing well?"

"Negaduck!" Darkwing hissed, the rage he felt towards the person who had abducted his baby girl nearly blinding him. "Where are they?"

"Oh my, my," Negaduck said, feigning astonishment, "aren't we in a temper!"

Darkwing wanted to reach through the screen and strangle the mallard. "Tell me where they are, Negaduck, or so help me I'll-"

"You'll do what?" the villain asked, arching an eyebrow over his narrowed eyes.

Darkwing seethed, but said nothing. Negaduck held all the cards, and they both knew it. Darkwing couldn't risk doing anything, even offending his double, so long as Gosalyn and Launchpad were in Negaduck's clutches.

"That's what I thought," Negaduck replied smugly to the vigilante's silence. "Now do what I tell you, and I might let your daughter and pathetic sidekick live."

Darkwing had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from exploding. _Pathetic? Launchpad's the best sidekick a hero could ever hope for! How dare he threaten him and Gosalyn!_ The only thing that kept the mallard from flying at the screen and wiping Negaduck's leering face from the monitor was the fact that he didn't want to risk damaging the equipment. As soon as this communiqué was over, he could trace the villain's location and get the drop on him.

Negaduck took Darkwing's continued silence as a sign of submission. "Back at your house, I left a package next to where that statue of yourself," his smile widened, "_used_ to sit. You're to take that package and deliver it to the fortieth flour of 8895 Brisbane. You have twenty minutes."

Darkwing gawked. "Twenty minutes! That's not enough-"

"It had better be enough," his double interrupted, "because if it's not, then your precious daughter and sidekick are going to be blown so high that people in Duckburg will be finding pieces of them." The villain leaned closer to the screen. "So you'd better get your tail feathers moving if you ever want to see them again." The villain severed the connection, leaving Darkwing staring at an empty monitor.

Two seconds later though, the mallard was up and running for the set of blue recliners that marked the passage to his home. _Twenty minutes…_ The words echoed menacingly in the mallard's mind. Twenty minutes to get to his house, find this package, then get across the bay to the busiest downtown area and deliver it. It gave him no time to trace Negaduck's location, or even try to figure out what Negaduck was doing in making him deliver whatever the package was. It was going to be close, even if he ran every red light between here and downtown. But as he slammed his hand down on the Basil statue, he knew that he had to make it. He _had_ to make it.

He wouldn't let them down again.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thanks for your patience everybody! Sorry, not much of this chapter focused on our main characters, the chapter's a bit weaker because of it, but I needed to finish setting a few things up. The next chapter should have a lot more action, and will settle more into the characters we all know and love.  
_


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